Stay With Me
by chidorrii
Summary: Contains: graphic language, mild insanity, triggering material, some sexual references. Kakashi/OC
1. Chapter 1

_After a few minutes of the disastrous – and slightly drunk – game of truth or dare, Naruto had volunteered Kakashi. Kakashi was more drunk than he was, which was not a good thing._

_Naruto sat across from Kakashi, thinking. Then, he slurred. "So, Kakashi-sensei… Who's the love of your life?"_

_Kakashi stiffened. Sakura hissed._

_"What is it?" Naruto giggled. "Does Kakashi have a crush? D'awww." He pinched the older man's cheeks, grinning._

_Kakashi stood up abruptly, pushing Naruto away. Sakura, who was the most sober, rushed up._

_"Kakashi-"_

_"Leave it." He muttered, pushing past her._

_Naruto watched him go, gaping. Sakura hit him over the head, half-heartedly._

_"W-what did I do? Did he have some girlfriend?"_

_She turned to him, biting her lip._

_"I can't tell you."_

_"Why not?" He whined. "What's wrong with Kakashi-sensei?"_

_"Okay, okay." Sakura sighed. "There may have been someone. But she died."_


	2. Chapter One

**Edited 18/01/2014**

"_I was always an unusual girl._  
_My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean._" ― Lana Del Rey

It was falling dark and the sun was casting large, looming shadows over the tops of the mountains. Down on the river below, two children played. One little girl, who looked as if she'd been dragged through a bush backwards, lay flat on her stomach, not even daring to blink. Before her sat one of the most gorgeous creatures the seven year old had ever seen. Long, thin body, almost as if it were made of beads of pure light, strung together. Hundreds of different colours bounced off its translucent wings and body, tapering into a beautifully rounded head, with a mesh of two large eyes settled over it like a helmet.

Mouth forming a small 'o', her small hand reached out: she wanted to touch the pretty creature. Just as her index finger brushed it's wing, it buzzed and she squeaked, falling back. Rising into the air, it didn't even say goodbye as it flew away.

"Mama!" Along the valley, the voice rang out. Up ahead, the woman addressed looked up.

"Kazuo?"

"Mama!" Kazuo stumbled in, grinning. "Look what I found!"

Hana spun, making a tiny gasp, hands on hips. "What did you find? Show me, show me."

Her eyes were dark, almost violet, surrounded by premature fine lines of worry, mapping out her tanned skin. She bent, staring into the child's grubby hands.

"You caught a tadpole." A hush fell on the already peaceful room. "Look at its little tail."

Kazuo slowly closed his hand. "I need to put him back. So he can be a frog!"

"Yeah." Hana nodded, patting his hair. "Can you get your sister to come in for me?"

He nodded, grinning. There was a notable absence where his front teeth should've been. 'I can fit my whole thumb in the gap, look!'

Hana had been young when she'd married. Just sixteen, to be precise. The short, sharp teenage love that strikes a few right through the heart. You love them. You can't imagine life without them. You'll _die _without them.

Times like these – in fact, most times – made her _nostalgic. _Which was more than anything, a nuisance. Because she couldn't get nostalgic about the love of her youth.

When Hana was sixteen, she met Kyo. Kyo was nice. Kyo was attractive, apart from that little scar on his forehead, but when you're sixteen, you think those kind of imperfections are poetic. When she got pregnant, she didn't question that the child was his. Or rather, _children. _Kyo was going to be a good dad. They were married by the sea.

Behind closed doors, his vaguely… psychotic state was revealed. Alcohol, every day, hidden, was used, as well as pills to control his almost obsessive interest in women in general, his psychosis, his fantasies.

To be perfectly honest, it was a nightmare.

Hana, as she grew larger, wasn't pretty enough anymore. Why couldn't she be slim and pretty like the other girls in town?! She was supposed to be like that forever. And he didn't know how to deal with _brats, _either.

When you come from a family, distantly related to the name "Sarutobi", higher things are expected of you. So you keep it quiet. You cover up the bruises on your neck. And when your children are born premature, you let your high up family take them away and examine them.

"This," her aunt said, holding up the little baby boy awkwardly, "he has power. He will be strong."

"The girl must be left to die."

If Kyo could have his way, he would keep them inside. The babies would be quiet: a single whimper from tiny lips would have him flying into a rage. The little girl, eyes already a sonorous brown, stared up at her mother as she hushed her brother.

Far down in the village below, people wondered where pretty little Hana had gone. Some said she'd run away with a Sand shinobi. Some said she was caught in bed with her own grandfather. Some said she was dead and buried under the cobblestones.

Kazuo was running. Rather than risk his mother's palpable rage and dawdle on his way down to the river, he ran full pelt, feet flying over the ground.

"M-mama says you have to see her!" He barked. Kohaku spun, blinking. "You're in trouble!"

This fact barely registered on her face, still solemn.

"Mr Bird flew away." This was accompanied with a mournful look. "I wanted to show him to mama."

"Mama wants to see you now!"

This time, Kohaku's little brow creased. "Okay… I'm going." Lethargic steps were taken: half mourning for her lost bird friend (who was actually a mayfly, but she didn't know the difference) and half because she was probably in trouble. It was starting to rain some: warm droplets landing on her bare arms and face, itching.

Halfway up the slope, she slipped, falling flat on her face. This was a mistake on her part; she was usually so graceful. For a six year old.

So, she staggered up the hill to the tiny house, dripping wet and waddling due to the mud plastered to her legs. She nudged the door open, blinking.

"Mama?"

There was silence.

"Mama?" Slow steps were taken. After a moment, she shook herself of the mud and rain, running a tiny hand through her hair.

More silence. Mama was playing a trick on her. Mama thought it would be funny to hide.

That was weird. The fire had been put out. Kohaku shuffled to the smoking logs and stared. Some weird brown stuff had put out the flames. It looked sticky, like syrup. She liked syrup.

Dipping her finger into it, she took a taste.

"Don't like it." It was metallic, like when she cut her knee and licked her wounds like the dog did.

The dog had disappeared when daddy had left. Kohaku could remember shouting when she was supposed to be asleep, lying awake and hearing bottles shatter. She remembered daddy yanking her up by her arm and hissing strange things.

"_One day, you'll be mine._"

"Mama?" She was panicking: if she was in trouble, this wasn't a nice way to tell her!

The door to the bedroom was closed. She reached up, turning the handle carefully. It felt warm.

Mama was asleep, lying on the bed. Her chest rose and fell quietly, hitching every so often. Kohaku struggled onto the covers, grunting. Never mind the mud. Mama needed to wake up.

Mama's head was bleeding. Her face was bleeding. So was her stomach.

"_Mama…!_"


	3. Chapter Two

**Edited 04/02/2014**

"_The reason I talk to myself is because I'm the only one whose answers I accept._"  
― George Carlin

She was tugging at her shackles, but not in the desperate, in vain way most people did. She wasn't trying to run away. Instead, she was making a little tune with the jangling metal, beating away the seconds with the awful clanking.

Shizune bit down on her lip. Guarding the younger woman was one thing, but this was spooking her. The way the blonde's eyes bored into her, lips curling into a cruel smirk.

Kohaku knew how much it was grating against Shizune's mind. The sound of metal on metal didn't hurt her ears anymore, but soon, the woman would crack.

_Clank. Clank. Clank._

Shizune was a civil woman. Licking her lips once, she sat up a little straighter. "They'll be here to talk to you soon."

Kohaku didn't acknowledge, still fiddling with her shackles.

Then, she looked up. "Do you think these would look better with a bit of glitter?"

_Nutcase. This girl's insane._

"We don't have glitter here."

"That's a shame," Kohaku's head tilted sideways, sighing. "Everything is so much nicer with glitter."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

Kohaku returned to picking at the bits of dried blood on the inside of the shackles. Her nails were already completely ruined, split and slightly yellow. It wasn't as if they were treating her _badly _here. They were just terrified of her. That made her smile. Someone was scared of her.

Out of mere courtesy, Ibiki knocked on the door. Shizune stood, almost leaping out of her seat. "Sir!"

Kohaku liked Ibiki. He asked her interesting questions. However, she didn't move, still staring at her shackles.

Ibiki gave a wave of his hand. Shizune left, closing the door with finality. Ibiki sat, arms folded, legs crossed.

"Hello." For once, Kohaku greeted him. He nodded.

"How are you feeling?"

"Top of the world." She made a small wave, shackles clanking.

"Good, good." His eyes were a mixture of grey and green, but they were too cold to call hazel. If that was hazel at all.

"I'm in Konoha." She blinked. "I thought it was supposed to be green."

"What can you see from the window?"

"A street. A very narrow one."

"How would you like to walk down that road?"

She didn't answer. He'd backed her into a corner.

"Is there green out there?"

"Very green. Trees, bushes. Grass."

She mumbled under her breath, thinking.

"Don't you have any more questions for me?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"... There's not enough information for use to persecute. Anyway, you've been... killing people from other villages."

"Not your problem." That made her laugh.

"We could use someone like you."

"Oh, recruitment? You flatter me."

"Not just yet." He leaned on the desk. "Not deemed fit for duty."

"So I'm to be one of your soldiers."

"By choice."

"What if I don't choose?"

"Oh, you will."

For once in his almost thirty years of interrogation, Ibiki wanted to get rid of a prisoner. Something about her eyes – like a cat's, cruel and sarcastic – made him shiver. He hadn't got half the answers out of her that he wanted, but it felt better to let her go with the slight hope that she'd reveal more later on.

Ibiki stood, large shoulders taking up her entire viewpoint. Pupils simply shrunk, to accommodate the lack of light. He – more gently than expected – helped her up by the shoulder. Almost fatherly hand pressed to her back, ushering her through the door.

"Desk."

Shackled hands were placed on the desk, unlocked with a satisfying little click. She didn't like the feeling of having someone behind her.

There was a mirror in the corner; she glanced into it for a moment.

_Shit._

Her hair had grown around an inch, now past her shoulders. Not exactly lank and knotted with blonde: stained coppery with grease and messy at the ends. She pouted, but it didn't look right. Already thin face was now haggard and cheekbones stuck out, golden skin now almost _grey. _Kohaku stopped in her tracks, hands on hips. She'd lost weight – and oh, her breasts! For someone so small, they had been average in size, now she looked like a juvenile. She toyed with the ends of her split hair, whining under her breath.

"I look weird."

Ibiki simply chuckled. "I'm sure you'll be back to your pretty little self soon."

The younger didn't respond to the half-compliment.

Whereas she was **curious **as to what was happening now, she didn't comment. These kind of things came and she let them take her. Ibiki let her sit in another chair. Thin hands, covered in blisters and wrists almost bird like, flexed, twisted, fidgeted in her lap.

_Be ladylike._

Lady like, my _arse._

Someone knocked on the door. Her ears almost pricked up, but she continued to stare at her poor hands.

"Sakura." Ibiki's voice softened: Sakura was young. Jonin or chunin. High up, somewhere near the Hokage, enough to earn mutual respect from the interrogator, but even so, young. Something tied them, something where he had been forced the pity the other.

Kohaku lifted her head. Sakura made her feel a little better – she was the juvenile looking kind of person who's boobs made Kohaku feel a lot better about herself in general.

Disconcerting grin, slightly maniacal, was given. Sakura didn't comment, nor step back. Kohaku frowned. _Ugh. Thinks she's tough._

"Sakura," Ibiki laid a hand on the woman's shoulder – wow, he was being nicer now she was out of that cell, "is going to take you out to the town. Someone else will take you once you're… cleaned up."

Kohaku huffed. Ibiki gave her a light shove and she stumbled towards Sakura. She saw the girl's hands twitch: used to catching, healing. Kohaku glared at Ibiki. But, she remembered some decency.

"…. Uh… thanks."

"You're welcome." A smile twisted his scars out of place even more, chin almost splitting in two. It was like the sun coming out over a mountain range.

Sakura didn't say anything until the door closed. She didn't look as fearful as Kohaku would have liked – she had her pride. Arms, slightly wider than normal for of her physique, swung beside her side.

_Purposeful, medical ninja, young. She's seen a few things, but she makes mistakes. She doesn't understand people. Hardworking, intelligent, but panicky._

Interesting.

"Where are you taking me?" Kohaku spoke up, deciding to fold her arms. Konoha was filled with a chilly breeze and she didn't appreciate it.

"To the bath house." Sakura was brief – curt, to be honest.

"Hey_!_" Kohaku swung around, trotting to keep up with the girl. Sakura blinked, the older woman's face appearing in front of her own. "What's got you all pissed off?"

"I'm doing as I'm told."

"Loosen up, jeez." Kohaku returned to looking straight ahead.

Pretty. She would be pretty if it weren't for the pretty, lack of sunlight look. Almost childlike: she could easily look younger than Sakura herself. Sakura flipped her hair out of her face, not slowing.

Kohaku was wheezing.

_What the __**hell**__? _That was bad. She wasn't supposed to wheeze.

"Okay… how long was I in there?" This seemed like a perfectly reasonable question: how unfit had she become?

"A month."

"_What?!_" Kohaku stopped in her tracks. Civilians stared. "Ew. A fucking month in that stinky little hole, fucking stupid excuse for a place to fucking live, for fuck's sa—"

"You were ill."

"I was kept like a fucking animal."

Sakura thought for a moment. "You're not, now. Sensei will be nice to you." Obvious mirth was hidden behind this.

"Okay, sweetie, here's the deal. _Sensei _sounds creepy. Who, why, where, when?" Kohaku clicked her fingers. "If I'm gonna be looked after, I wanna know who by."

"Only the best." Sakura tapped the side of her nose. "You'll know him when you see him."

"I am going to fucking throttle yo—"

"Bath house." Sakura gestured, still smirking in the way which made Kohaku want to claw her face off with her own bitten nails.

Kohaku took a heavy breathing, inhaling the smell. Steam was filtering through chimneys at the top. Sakura took her arm, this time, dropping two tokens into the pot in the entrance.

"Ladies." She pointed to the sign.

"I _can _read."

Kohaku retreated back into her little _mind palace _– the place where Sakura was now having to do something obviously terrible, something which wiped the stupid smirk off her face.

Ah, you were supposed to _undress. _Did not see that coming. Sakura threw her a towel, retreating into her own booth. Kohaku stripped, sniffing the old tunic and shorts.

"**Ew.**" She threw the garments away from her; her sandals were so worn, she might as well be barefoot. Her tunic was almost completely in rags, and her shorts were covered in blood and dirt. She took this moment to stare at her chest.

And _sigh._

"Where did you go?" She poked herself once, whining. This wave of vanity was unusual: usually, she really didn't care how she looked, but now that it was gone, she missed her old…. Kohaku-ness.

"Are you ready?" Sakura knocked briefly on the door. Kohaku huffed, wrapping herself in the towel.

"Yeah."

She pushed open the door, running a hand through her hair. Sakura, once again, took her arm (what was _with _that?) and led her into a steamy room, with stools all along one end, and a large tub.

Kohaku inhaled the sweet smell of lemon grass – ooh, passionfruit? She liked that.

Sakura began to lead her to a stool.

"Hey, I can wash myself." Kohaku yanked her arm out of the girl's grip, instead choosing to walk to the tub, sinking into the warm depths. She could feel the blood and gore sifting from her. Someone had left a small brush by the side: she began to pick out the grime from under her nails. Sakura settled by the bathtub, resting both arms on it. Kohaku stretched out her hand, admiring her work. "Ah, much better."

"What do you think?"

Immediately, a haughty sniff. "Hmm, I've seen better bath houses."

"Oh, really? Where have your amazing travels taken you, then?"

Kohaku's eyes narrowed. Sakura was trying to get information, again.

"Loads of places." The vague answer was given, before Kohaku ducked under the water, submerging all but a small tuft of blonde hair. When she resurface, rubbing her face with her hands, she grinned. "Why aren't you coming in?"

"I will in a moment."

"Why don't you come in _now_?" Kohaku's hand reached out: partly welcoming, another part teasing. "Come on, are you shy?"

"No."

"You are~"

"Fine." Sakura said, stepping into the water. Her towel was tossed aside, pale limbs folding to fit into the tub. "There, I got in."

Kohaku splashed her.

**As you can see, my endings are just** **_fantastic._**


End file.
